


Beatrice March

by OpossumsInATrenchcoat



Category: Alice (TV 2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Gen, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Rating May Change, Warnings May Change, mostly its aiming to be a further look into the inner workings of wonderland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpossumsInATrenchcoat/pseuds/OpossumsInATrenchcoat
Summary: When a tea shop owner is abducted and finds out she is the unwanted daughter of a probably definitely dead assassin, what will she do when she finds political unrest blocking her from her one way home? Will she rise to the challenge of joining a well established, but probably over half-insane guerrilla war against a well supplied, but definitely half-trained mercenary political army? Or will more wondrous forces drive her into a curiouser and curiouser land?*August 5, In the process of editing. See notes on the first chap, please!*





	1. Prologue

Had March been a different man, a saner man even, perhaps he would have felt Fear. He hadn’t felt in a long time but he hardly blamed that on being a wonderlander. No, given enough time off the stuff any wonderlander could learn to feel. Base instincts of course. But he and him had done it. Done it together. Went stone-cold sober, and then shaped up to just be stone cold.  
The reason March here didn’t quake in his boots, get clammy in areas that really should have been warm, or have tunnel vision focusing on anything to get out was because of two simple things.  
1) When you are the top predator, there is no reason to be intimidated by anything other than death.  
B) This was all going according to plan  
March continued to sit and lean against the wall of the dungeon. One leg out in front, the other curled up under and supporting his elbow. For all intent and purposes he looked casual, at ease even, as much as one can be waiting for the last moments of life as known to tick-tock by. A stark contrast to the rest of the beheadings scheduled for the day. They ranged from lifeless, liftless, shriveled up infinitesimally small on themselves until all that was left was a husk of a person, left accepting their fate. There were also the beggars, the cryers, the angry indignant ones. They tried to use the sympathy of the guards to persuade them that there was some kind of mistake, they have a family, I'll give you a bottle if you set me free.  
Poor schmucks didn’t realize that like him, the guards would never be swayed. There was no heart sting to pull on. There was no tea that could quench the thirst for these people. Only watching other wonderlanders achieve their fullest potential, watching them feel for themselves, as they came to the realization that the walls were closing in and their captor was staring them right in the eyes.  
Eyes closed he didn’t see who was coming down the hallway. But he could tell three guards. He highly doubted that any of the other unlucky, dank, half-forgotten, sods would be so lucky as to leave this place for a while yet what with what he had planned for the day. The heavy footfalls suggesting that it wasn’t just the usual bloodthirsty guards, it was the well associated, self-serving, questionably functioning on tea, liked to pick on anyone smaller than them (which was everyone) numbers. The lock had a key shoved into it so hard he wondered if the poor thing was bruised. Scraping of metal bars across the uneven stone.  
“March.”  
March made no move that he acknowledged the sniveling voice. Not a cracked eyelid, or stopping the way his fingers kept tapping against the other elbow.  
A self-serving, exasperated sigh that wasn't worth the air it waisted came from the clear nonthreat.  
“Get him” Shuffle of dulled minds trying to make sense of their bodies walking through such a small thing as the prison doorway. Too soon to appreciate the last moments of his lazed position, rough hands grabbed March, intentions clear that he was to be hauled up. March debated if a fight was even worth it. He had this big Need growing in weight, want. Even since he got the news months ago. Quickly running the situations and determining that his Need did not want a hearty beating, it so rarely did. No, what it wanted was to Give a beating. The kind that would be rather hard to get back up from. The kind where he could get lost in the ebb and swell in this chest as his fists hit harder and harder into flesh. What he Really wanted, Needed really was to soften a hard body, he needed to feel the squish between his fingers as he got past layers of skin to the muscle. Playing along seemed like the best option for any chance at getting that need fulfilled in a timely manner.  
“Nice of you to pay me a visit. Sorry I didn’t have time to tidy up before you got here.” Finally opening his eyes he looked the Ace of Spades in the eye as two numbered spades gripped tighter.  
“Enough Joker, do you need to be reminded again that it is merely meant to be a title?” The number to March’s right pivoted faster then honestly expected, catching March unprepared and thus winded as he was punched in the gut. A saner man would have taken that as an indication that his quips were ill-advised. However, March's voice was the only one he could stand in this castle, so he took it with almost mission-like determination to fill the space as much as possible.  
“I take it you didn’t really care about my answer then?”  
“The queen wants to see you.” Oh good.  
“You going to drag me the whole way, or do I get to hold onto the dignity of walking?”  
Ace sized March up and down, and then a little quirk behind the eye showed that he remembered all the missions March had gone ‘out of line for the missions parameters.’ March called it auditioning for his true calling, being a Really wild card.  
“Nine, Ten.” A shuffle as the too dumb to realize they were dispensable goon types rose to attention. “We shan’t want to disrespect our most esteemed Joker, now would we? Why don’t you both escort us for now. No matter how good he is, he can’t make it out of here. But first.” Ace took a shiny pair of cuffs from the belt of his uniform and slapped them over March’s wrists as the numbers forced his arms up.  
Ace naturally took the lead, trailed by Ten, March, and Nine. Out of the holding cells, into the maze of halls. One turn after another and they would eventually lead to the throne room. Dark stone walls turned into white painted plaster walls, which in turn was taken over by an old update of garish red shapes painted in regular intervals down the halls. Even further along the newly titles neo-modern royalist style came into play. Unessicarly complex small black and white patterned walls, mixed with the heart and circle motifs.  
March personally hated the artificial decor. Give him the more understated but classy Chestorian era. Some of the clean black and white tile pattern and symmetrical column lined halls could be found around the castle if one knew how to trace the building's eccentric architectural history. March was usually nosey and bored enough to do such things. Sleep was only for the weak and depressed, and March had been on a manic high after too much cheap excitement, spoiled curiosity, and homebrew anxiety and been mixed into a flaming cocktail.  
As the small parade homed in on the end goal room the guards outside the door perked up. March noted that they weren’t even numbered, making them dressed up half whits, as opposed to the trained idiots he walked with.  
To be expected the room was full on arrival, but March didn’t anticipate this many suits having interest in his transgressions. Due to the many beheadings scheduled for eternity, the Queen would naturally be holed up in her throne room. She still saw it fit to personally judge and sentence every trial. However this was not just the clubs jotting in and out of the room to see that the inner workings requiring the Queen's approval went off seamlessly. Nor was it just the added presence of the decorative but ever so useful gossipy diamonds decorating the edges of the circular room. The room had an unexpected presence of every face card in the Queen's employ. March really was flattered at the turnout.  
“Your majesty, I have brought the Joker in question to you.” The Ace announced once he bowed comically low in front of the multi-tiered pedestal.  
“Do you think I am blind?” The queen only had eyes for the Ace on the floor.  
“Excuse me?” He stuttered out and tempted a glance up to the queen.  
“You heard me. Do you think I am blind, or merely too stupid to see the source of my many problems today?” This was not the way anyone had planned this, seeing as how the mood of the room went from a nice heady buzzing apprehension, to a low and silent terror. Clearly the cards in question all thought that the fury from the queen would only be directed at March. If his plan of revealing his crimes went right, she will be too mad to find her tension hardly quelled by just one head rolling down the halls March thought with glee.  
“No mam! I mean your highness, majesty, Queen! I would never wish to presume the queen, the pinnacle of our great side would be anything other than the peak of excellence.” March truly hated simpering compliments, found them to be the most irritating pointless lies that only the meekest excuse of a wonderlander would resort to. It was no wonder he held such little regard for his first Ace since day one of their meeting.  
“Oh shut up and do let me speak to the priority.” Relieved he got out of a near-miss situation, Ace quickly rose and scampered over with the rest of his suit. They seemed to hold no less respect to their fearful leader, which only further exasperated March. He really wanted to get this over and done with. Nine and Ten continued to imitate statues behind March. While his title still afforded him some respect, no one was stupid enough to let him be completely unaccompanied, despite the shackles binding him at his front. An uncomfortable silence stretched out as everyone started at March. He just stared disinterestedly at the Queen. A throat cleared, the kings, clearly trying to get someone to do something. A few more moments ticked by before the queen broke.  
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” A quiet tone, puzzling even. A stark contrast to the barking harsh nature she had just used for the clearly lesser favorited subjects. Like attracts like and all, but there were never ever any pretenses that the two were drinking from the same teacup at times.  
“What would a good looking guy like me have to say to a fat cow like you?” A gasp of false shock, and alarm, more to mask the pleased smirk the flashed across many of the accompanied members of the red house.  
“Now March. You do know I appreciate your candid nature most days, but there are some very serious accusations being thrown against your good person right now. So, I shall repeat myself only once. Have you nothing to say for yourself?”  
Silence. That is all March would give her as he pointedly stared at a spot just above the middle of the queens left brow. She hated not being the center of attention, and he needed her in a tissie, not this fake consideration nonsense.  
“My dear, maybe he might need to be informed as to what the - what I’m sure are slanderous- accusations against your favorite assassin?” The King is clearly having a field day trying to navigate the bomb field of this wife's emotional range.  
Waving her hand in dismissal of any more interruptions, knowing not one of the twenty-odd people in the room would dare to disobey such a direct command.  
“March Hare. You have been accused of wooing and seducing an oyster woman, impregnating said oyster, and allowing the escape of her and her newly birthed spawn.” That last part was not expected. No, no that is not the plan, ah screw the plan. They were only there to get burned in the crossfire.  
“Now I can only admit to some of the accusations, but the rest the King has right, it's just slander.” The Queen finally perked up at this, gracefully rose out of her chair, and started the slowest descent of the stairs March had ever seen. A clear display of the power she had been born and preened into.  
“And pray tell, which parts are true, and which false?” A high inflection of her voice, false innocence, false sincerity. The viewers had a harder and harder time breathing as the day’s events seemed so close to being resolved.  
“I only bent her over. I had no idea she was pregnant. Obviously had I known any sooner I would have taken care of the problem.” Not entirely untrue. They didn’t need to know that she was special, immune, just like a wonderlander. They didn’t need to know she was the most fascinating thing since he had been abandoned in the queens’ army.  
“To be clear, you had carnal relations with an oyster?”  
“Isn’t that what I just said? What's this about escape? Did you bring me here to track them down?” Maybe he can still fix this. He’s wanted to be the one to fix it since he saw her transferring emotional rooms. He won't lose another person important to him. More importantly he won’t let a mistake like that continue to tarnish his reputation.  
“I am so sorry my dear, your confession is enough to show that you have lost touch of my rules. The pearls are for me to extract, not for any mongrel to touch and sully. Clearly you need to be taught a much stricter lesson.” Dawning horror rushed over March. “Off with his head!”  
He had read the situation wrong. The unplanned escape threw her too far over the edge. The Queen hardly handled her toys being played with under her supervision. But a plaything taken from her twice was too far to expect anything else. Nine and Ten grabbed him and hauled him down the maze of halls to be a top priority beheading. So much for cleaning up his mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, long time reader first time posting. Not only is this my first ever published fanfic, but this is the first story I have written in seven years. I'm sorry if there are any errors, I am still getting back into the swing of it all.  
> I have loved this show since it came out, and have devoured so much fan work over the years. Due to quarantine I've had a lot more time on my hands and wanted to finally try my hand at creating something in my favorite fandom.  
> I hope you like it so far!


	2. 1

Beatrice March had every intention of starting this day with the routine of ignoring her well-intended but far too busy to be a practical home life schedule. She really had wanted to start the morning with a cup of something hot and caffeinated and glare at the plants that had not gotten the memo that they were supposed to be low maintenance and therefore easy to take care of. However running a series of tea houses did indeed require some work. She was reminded of such when her phone went off.   
“Hello?”  
“Hi March. I'm sorry to do this to you, but I need you in early before the meeting. In fact we might just want to cancel that meeting and block out the rest of the day for a much bigger, but related meeting.” The pit of dread in March’s stomach grew slowly from a cherry all the way to a full-sized mango by the end of her general manager's clear attempt at easing her into the severity of whatever situation was at hand.  
“And why would we do that?” Best to keep her cards close to her chest for now. Knowing that the owner is worried only means everyone else is more upset. That did not stop the nervous pacing that started at the far side of the living room and pausing at the end of the kitchen, and back again.   
“Well there is an issue with the warehouse we were trying to purchase in Brooklyn. So we really can't finalize the concept for the space when we have a much larger issue at hand.”  
“What is that larger issue, Skyler?”  
“The building's current owner won’t sell.”  
“Why not?” Mango pit has been jostled by the pacing and is currently plummeting down into depths previously unknown to the emotional range.   
“They just won’t! According to Andy their representative said that money is no problem for their client.” Shit. I thought for sure that the amount we offered would entice them. The building has been abandoned for years! What could possibly make them not want the money and have their hands free of a partly dilapidated old building?  
“Is Andy with you?” Maybe a face to face will somehow clear the pea soup fog that had seeped into her brain as to what the next step should be.  
“Yes, he is sitting in my office sipping his usual vanilla chai latte. He just finished updating me on his talk with the lawyer.”  
“Good, I’ll be over shortly.”  
Hanging up March walked over to the really too small to be considered a kitchen table and flopped into the chair facing the back porch. Seeing the small army of mostly if not completely but only just barely dead plants taking up her back porch enticed a groan into her coffee mug. The plants under scrutiny representing the visualization of every time she got too invested in a situation without fully doing the required research. Hunching over the table she sunk her head into her hands to evaluate the situation with less of a distraction of the volatile mix of guilt, self-doubt, and a large dash or irritation sparked by seeing the offending objects.   
Thinking like that was going to get her absolutely nowhere. Burying the heels of her hands further into her eyes till all she saw was a kaleidoscope of blue and green. She took a few deep breaths until slowly the mango pit was hoisted up into having a shaky visual on where her stomach should be.   
In the end she really couldn't be that disappointed that the owners didn't want to sell. It wasn't even on the market after all. Despite her unquestionably accurate visual appraisal of ‘run down but good bones’ maybe they had something worthwhile going on in there. March remembered the weird men who kept eyeing her up as she walked the perimeter of the constant construction zoning after checking out her latest competition in a nearby neighborhood. She had yet to find evidence of any actual repairs to the building being done, but it didn't seem odd at the time. Looking back now she ponders the ideas about whether a small secret society of weirdos could live in there and the probability of people knowing.   
After trying to ease a topper consisting of calm, and determination over the swirling vat of her emotional brew. With an added attempt of stocking the fire of good old curiosity she was ready to get this crisis of a day over with. She threw back the last of her coffee and headed into the bathroom to get prepped for the day. 

Taking the subway March boarded the thought train of wondering why the owners wouldn't want that perpetually under construction, never been used for the last 30 years, building. Now that she thinks about it there were a lot of uneasy tingles that she glossed over with the rush of excitement at being able to convert a spot perfect for the large roll out that her brand had been gearing up for.   
She already had her two locations, one in Brooklyn and the second Manhattan. The older clientele loved the high tea overseas theme of the first shop and having the offices located behind the cafe. March really cared for some of her regulars there, having served them for years, despite not being behind the bar in a long while. Any time any of her Old Birds would have a sprog of a sprog visit, March herself was the only one who would be allowed to help pick them a blend. It was both delightful and frustrating having such a dedicated customer base.  
The second location really brought in a love of her creative blends to a new boom with the bar serving tea-infused alcohol. Bringing in live music 3 nights a week lead to more loyally needy regulars. The brands social media started getting popular enough that it became harder to find days to book gigs then having to find the artists themselves.  
This new location was supposed to bridge the gap between the two worlds Mach had created. She made it her priority to have an idea of what her competitors, and at this point several friends were up to in their cafes. Hearing about a new tea house on the east side was sure to draw her highly piqued interest. She met with the owner, David, a quirky guy but she had a feeling he had a lot more to him than that. After having a good talk about his plans, and her history she took her tea to go and scoped out the area. And that's when she found it. About ten blocks west was the answer to the expansion problem.  
Originally an old fabric warehouse. The first story was part loading bay, part storage. That made a huge cavern of open towering concrete floor, pillars, ceiling. It was essentially a blank canvas to have an open bar, stage, and seating along the edge. The upper levels of the building had been the offices at one point. No one of importance was ever meant to work there hence each samey little concrete cube, side by side. It was how she was going to bring the chatty cozy personalization that her high tea had claimed into the mix. Each cube would be outfitted as its own themed room with the food, tea, and cocktails delivered to the occupants. Every other building either needed the cozy nooks to be built after buy, or there was no entertainment space at all.  
Seeing Tea Over Sea coming up as she walked her normal route drew her out of her thoughts. It was time to figure out a second offer, maybe her clear lack of the definition of the word no, or as she liked to call it, tenacity was going to come in her favor again.   
Walking up to the counter she was relieved that the Old Birds weren’t in. She must have missed them with the late morning. She strolled up to the counter, putting on the Business March persona she had adopted over her career.  
“Good morning March, how's the morning so far?” Fin greeted her at the counter, putting away the task of filling new bulk tea containers.   
“I can firmly say I am not near caffeinated enough for this day, ask me that when it's afternoon.” March said as she internally debated what she actually did want to put in her body this morning. The coffee earlier had been a nice pep, but had left her feeling a little queasy. Empty stomach on top of bungee jumping mango sized pits of despair and dread had a way of bringing that unstabilizing feeling about.  
“Well we shouldn't have to wait too much longer for me to ask you again. Is there anything I can get to ease you into the day?” Fin leaned against the counter saying this, getting ready to grab whatever his boss may need.   
“Can I have a strawberry scone with the works and a pot of our spiced black?” The Desert Starlight was a blend of black tea, lapsang souchong, their vanilla chai blend, peppermint, and lavender. Perfect for caffeination and anxiety eases.   
“Coming out right out boss!” Walking to the handoff plain March leaned against the currently unused condiment bar and looked out over the late morning crowd. The lunch rush was near nonexistent in this store however, it did make up for that in customers from 2 till 6. At about 11 on a weekday there were only a few people who mooched off of the wifi, mostly holding onto last bites of morning scones and cold tea.   
“Here you are March, make sure to stop by later and I’ll ask you that question before your top-up.” Fin said all this while handing the now warmed scone with clotted cream and jam, along with the pot and mug. Looking up at the end of his hand off March could see a genuine smile on his face and she was stuck for a moment that despite the upcoming disaster of a meeting waiting behind the double doors, she was a good boss. Her people enjoyed their jobs and liked working for her. She shot a grin back at him and managed to carry her prizes to her office with minimal spilling.   
Putting her snacks off to the side of the desk March was left with the ability to pull out the content of her backpack and organize what was coming with her while she took a nibble of her dry scone. Feeling a little more prepared she grabbed an armful of papers deemed important, along with the computer, and made her way into the clearly occupied conference room.  
March knocked while opening the door to see the 8 person tables had been taken over by Andy and Skyler’s laptops and paperwork starting at each end and attempting to creep their way into a merging point in the middle. Andy sat at the farthest end, looking very drawn into his research the laptop was providing. Skyler looked up at the entrance, and proceeded to hastily start piling up some of her farthest papers into piles closer to herself as she started talking. All this action drew Andy out of his musings and he rushed to do the same in order to make room for March to set up and be brought to the task at hand.   
“Good morning March. Or well not Good morning, but you know.” Skyler was in the midst of trying to conduct multiple thought trains, only to have them derail and crash.  
“Oh yes. Morning March. Other than getting the news that the property sale that was never really for sale can not go through at this present time, did you have a pleasant late morning at home?” Andy was never one to hide anything from his clients. This sometimes led him to be read as insensitive. Which in all manner of respects he was, though never was he cruel in his musings. The fact of the matter was that when one spent their career helping people understand the finer details, and the larger picture of any given presuit, one learned that to give the information with the intent of making a person feel good about their lack of insight was one foxtrot away from useless. People will always feel bad when shown the results of their shortcomings. Shortcomings being natural of course and no need to have feelings around them one way or another. But people are people and they will have emotions tied and knotted into every aspect of life. So Andy did what he could to help his clients focus on the information at hand, rather than the wishy-washy nonsense of feelings that tried to follow along like a faithful companion.  
“Yes, thank you Andy. I was having as grand a time possible in my studio.” Setting her work down in the middle of the table she stepped back as she continued speaking. “I have to grab a few more things. Would you two be able to catch me up in a few moments?” Skyler’s shoulders sank a little as she realized she had a moment to collect herself. She didn't mean to work herself up into such a controlled anxiety coil, but having a moment to regather her thoughts helped her identify what that tightness in her soul was. It was her own insecurities and doubts that this project would come together. However March had had a way with things that made even the hardest of situations untangle themselves into manageable paths.   
March shortly returned with the mid-morning tea and large scone. Plonking herself down into the middle left chair she started to slather on the spreads as she was updated on each person's events of the morning.

“So what you are saying is” March said from her position of leaning over the table to get a better look at the several properties and relevant information taking up a large portion of the table. “Is that the building has been owned by this Red Unlimited corporation since the fabric storage business left in the ’50s. They have never done anything with it ever, as the building is clearly abandoned. However rather than rid themselves of, by their accounts, a useless building, they are going to just let it continue to sit to ruin.”   
“That is in part what I am saying, yes.” Andy continued to sit in the swivel chair claimed some hours ago at the beginning of the morning, sipping on a second vanilla chai latte.   
“What you are really saying is that March and I would be better off picking one of the locations we already looked at to expand into.” Skyler said from her new seat on the opposite end of the table from March, leafing through a folder containing a large four-story house closer to the offices. It had the possibility of several floors being opened up, leaving the bedrooms to be rented out private party rooms.   
“Yes indeed Skyler, as much as I admire Ms. March’s ability to let nothing hold her back, as your legal advisor I recommend that your combined efforts are best put to use in other endeavors and pursuits.” Andy replied after a hearty slurp of foam for the bottom of his mug.  
“I just don't get it though, what is so special about this place?” March continued to stare at the enlarged and printed picture she took of the outside and sent to Andy.   
“Listen March, I understand why you are confused. Unfortunately there is nothing to be done about other folks' actions. What you can do is find an alternative route to your end goal.” Andy solemnly stated while searching March’s face for any sign she would be able to unravel herself.   
Shaking her head a moment as if to physically clear it March rose from her more and more hunched, desperate position. “You’re right. I just need to get a little space from this. Skyler will you please set aside any of the locations that you thought were viable options. I had my eye on the warehouse with the visible structural arches holding the roof. I will be back in a moment.” Turning and leaving in the direction of the bathrooms March quickly left the room.  
“You both have most everything for the loan planned out, yes? You simply have to choose a location to finalize the specifications of the concepts?” Andy slowly stated as Skyler began organizing into a no folder pile and leaving three open files on the table.  
“Yes. It's like as soon as this building came into play that it is the only one she can further conceptualize us growing into. I know March has always been bull-headed, but this is almost becoming worrying.” Skyler confided in the slightly older gentleman. At this Andy rose to offer a comforting hand on the shoulder.  
“No need to fret my dear. If anyone can sort out the web of tangled feelings blocking the clearest path to success, it would be Ms. March.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, long time reader first time posting. Not only is this my first ever published fanfic, but this is the first story I have written in seven years. I'm sorry if there are any errors, I am still getting back into the swing of it all.  
> I have loved this show since it came out, and have devoured so much fan work over the years. Due to quarantine I've had a lot more time on my hands and wanted to finally try my hand at creating something in my favorite fandom.  
> I hope you like it so far!
> 
> *August 5*  
> Hey there! So COVID, protests, a lack of unemployment department response, and the embodiment of ignorance making a mockery of the usa is still happening. Crazy right?   
> Anyways I'm sorry for the delay in updates. I've been busy with getting work, losing work because I'm at risk and get sick (like so much it's silly), messing up my back more than a few times, helping feed protesters, getting ready to go back to school in fall, and using my health care!   
> Also, I remembered that you shouldn't show anyone other than an editor the first draft, so I have roped my mom into helping me tidy this up. Currently, we are still working on the prologue, but honestly, I am excited about where it's going. There is a lot more of our most delicate assassin, better descriptions, and lgbtq+ representation up in here, because there is never enough queer. However, we are regularly in the process of renovating the house, so it takes time to coordinate schedules around it. If you want to give this fic a chance keep an eye on the summary, I will date any new info.  
> Good luck and stay safe to everyone out there. Times may be hard, but at least we have fanfiction.


End file.
